Reparation
by Darkfirelight
Summary: In the wake of the "Crisis" event, Clark Kent travels back in time to save his family. AU after the Crisis event in Season 11, time-travel fic.


Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville.

Summary: In the wake of the "Crisis" event, Clark Kent travels back in time to save his family. AU after the Crisis event in Season 11, time-travel fic.

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><p>Clark Kent sat at the table, eyes firmly set on the plate of toast in front of him. Opposite him Jonathan and Martha shared a look.<p>

"Clark, honey, are you feeling alright?" Martha started, blinking when his eyes briefly darted up to look at them, regarding both her and his father for a moment and softening as he did so.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled reassuringly, quickly looking away from them and back to his food.

Jonathan frowned as he watched his son awkwardly toy with the bread. "Well, the horses aren't going to feed themselves." He said gruffly, getting up and grabbing his coat. "...Have a nice day at school, son."

Clark jolted as though surprised. A moment later he slowly relaxed, shoulders tense as he nodded. "Yeah, you too... Dad."

Martha looked between the two men, catching Jonathan's eye and shrugging as he left the house. "Clark, is something wrong?" She queried softly, brow furrowing when he flinched.

"No, nothing's wrong. Just... Bummed out about midterms." He sighed.

The redhead pursed her lips, deciding not to press any further. "Alright. You know if ever anything's wrong you can talk to me or your father, right?"

Clark blinked, smile lightening into a more genuine slant. "Yeah. Thanks, mom."

The older woman smiled back at him. "You'd better be going if you want to make that delivery, Clark."

The look he gave her in return made her chuckle, but nonetheless he stood, reaching across the table to grab a basket covered in a yellow make-shift tarp. "Right. See you soon, mom."

With a blur and a whir of air he disappeared, leaving his mother to sigh and reach for a broom, eyeing the dust hovering in the air with a frown.

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><p>Staring down at the console in front of him, Clark eyed the two stones in his hand, shifting them and regarding the symbols.<p>

Two Kryptonian symbols: Air and Water.

His eyes drifted back to the alter, regarding the first stone with a smile. Fire. Resting neatly in it's slot, taking up a third of the hole, the stone seemed to gleam with a red sheen, as though reacting. Whether to him or the other two stones, he wasn't sure.

He reached out, a stone in either hand, and automatically released them as they began to float above the alter. A bright flare overtook the cave, unseen by any.

When the light finally faded he was gone.

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><p><em>"MY SON." <em>The voice echoed above the roaring wind, echoing through his head. _"YOU HAVE COME AT LAST."_

"Jor-El!" He yelled to the air, even as he stepped further into the fortress. "Access manual data!" Technically speaking he didn't need to yell: The Fortress of Solitude was monitored entirely by the AI, and even a whisper would be caught by the programming.

If the AI were confused by the sudden demand, it didn't show it, instead allowing the winds to shift away, lowering in intensity and allowing him to view a large column in the center of the crystal building. _"KAL-EL. I HAVE MUCH TO TEACH YOU." _It boomed, and he sighed as he reached the console, realizing that until he agreed to it's demands it would not allow him access.

"Access Password protection: Lara-El. Access area: Security. Password..." He paused as he looked to the air, greeted by silence save for the biting cold whistling through the air. "...The Last Son of Krypton."

The words were uttered with a tone of finality, and the fortress dimmed to a blue-tinged black for a moment, even the ice crystals matching before, with a sound not unlike an avalanche, the fortress seemed to change, jutting crystals receding, the wind dying down to silence, and all sound seeming to fade in the background.

He stared around the structure for a moment. "Access area: Access. Key: Kal-El nee Clark Kent. Kryptonian. Son of Jor-El and Lara-El. _Power on." _The last words were spoken in Kryptonian, and the fortress seemed to alight once more, allowing him to see a wide, blank room, the same column as before in the same place and a variety of panels where once several crystals lay.

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><p>"You took your time." Martha observed, narrowing her eyes at the small wet spots on his shirt. "Problems?"<p>

Clark smiled and shrugged. "I got splashed on the way back. I couldn't just run from the Talon." He defended.

"Alright, Clark." She chuckled, turning back to the sink full of dishes before her.

Satisfied that his secret remained undiscovered, Clark sat down at the table and absently grabbed an apple.

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><p>Several miles away, seated in his office, Lionel Luthor gasped, back arching as he stared towards the ceiling with metallic-grey clouded eyes.<p>

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><p>Davis Bloome lay in a rickety bed, unaware that mere hours ago his life had been changed drastically. For the first time in a long time he slept peacefully.<p>

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><p>Walking down the main street that ran through Smallville, Clark turned his gaze to the sky, taking in the vast expanse of blue, marred by the occasional cloud. The sound of people heading home filled his ears and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the casual chat that made it all worth it.<p>

A hand made it's way to the side-pocket of his jeans, and he smiled as he looked around, ensuring no one was watching him as he stepped down an alleyway and vanished.

His other hand hovered in front of the door, blinking as he looked at the so-old house. He knocked twice and casually waited for a response.

Nobody answered.

Two more repeats garnered no more results than the first.

Pouting, he vanished once more.

The sun was finally starting to set as he came to a stop, glancing around the mostly empty car lot and stepping forward towards the massive building before him.

And there she was.

The mother of his child. The person that knew him best. The one person he'd learned to trust without a doubt. She stood there, casually, clothes mildly rumpled after a day at work, eyes weary and eye-liner smeared as she stepped out. Her forehead was dotted with sweat, hair slicked away from her face lackadaisically and her posture slumped with defeat. In her hands she held a small box filled with random objects.

She'd never looked so beautiful.

"Clark?" She looked up at him, startled yet tired. "What are you doing here?"

He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He just stood there, blank as he stared down at her.

"Clark?" She reiterated, and he finally found himself moving. A shaky hand brushed through her ruffled locks, eyes roaming over her, and he reached out with his other hand, gently cupping her face.

Something in his face must have convinced her to stay still, as she just stared as he caressed her cheeks, looking into her wide blue eyes with his own, taking in her confusion and then finding his gaze drawn downward when her lips inadvertently parted. They seemed to shimmer in the light, and he couldn't bring himself to stop as he swooped in, hands moving to run through blonde locks as he kissed her.


End file.
